


Submission

by PeppyDragon



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-01 18:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyDragon/pseuds/PeppyDragon
Summary: When the Tempest arrives at drydock for week-long repairs that align with Tiran Kandros' own forced time-off, he knows nothing good can come of it. Tiran has tried denying his feral attraction for the human Pathfinder.  He has tried to distance himself at every opportunity.  None of it seems to matter, though, when Sara Ryder lets her wild side out and drags Tiran along for the ride.He's always had trouble doing what is expected of him - why would this be any different?





	1. Temporary

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
> This story's title song is ["Submission," by Gorillaz.](https://open.spotify.com/track/2W4yTO3qHdqyvbz2UxfIPh)
> 
> This chapter's title song is ["Temporary Love," by The Brinks.](https://open.spotify.com/track/2U6hcDLZHYRSd9Up0mMe9W)
> 
> Please enjoy!

He had been trying to avoid her for the better part of two months. He didn’t shirk his duties, of course - if she wandered into Security to check her APEX squads or check up on surveillance footage, he was sure to at least be pleasant in his aloofness.  He didn’t go out of his way to speak to her when he saw her in the cafeteria, or in the residential quarters, or in the docking bay.  

He was cautious.  Very careful to not let his gaze fall on her for too long.  Very careful to keep his tone even, his mandibles from wiggling, and his hands from reaching out to move stray locks of her strange hair out of her face.

Sara Ryder was a lot of things.  Fascinating.  Intelligent.  Witty.  And entirely off limits.

Maybe that was why Tiran had such a hard time ignoring the small human.  She was off limits.

He had never been very good at doing what he was supposed to.  He tried.  Spirits, did he try.  But things never quite worked out the way they were supposed to for Tiran.  He had thought his fortunes were on the rise, that his fate had turned in Andromeda, but then Sara Ryder showed up, and everything went to hell.

Tiran tried not to dwell - he really did.  But alcohol made everything worse, and alcohol was somehow the only thing Tiran wanted that night.  So he sat in Vortex, lamenting the fact that the Tempest was in dry dock for repairs and Sara Ryder was somewhere on the station.

The turian brandy in his hand was sweating through the glass, wetting his glove and pooling in a thick circle on the bar.  He knew he should grab a napkin, soak up the water, but he just stared at it, stared at how the multicolored, strobing lights reflected on the surface tension.

“Kandros, hey.”

Tiran steeled himself.  The humans had a saying - something about thinking of the Devil and the Devil appearing.  That seemed to be an apt saying because here she was, his personal demon.  

“Pathfinder,” he greeted without looking up.

She was quiet for a moment before saying to the bartender, “Do you still have that purple drink with the Aya flowers?”

The bartender sighed, annoyed at being bothered again.  

Sara sounded amused as she murmured, “Oookay, can I get two of those?”  She must have turned her attention back to Kandros because her voice was louder than before, firmer.  “Fancy running into you here.  Everything going okay?”

“Your strike teams are doing well,” he said simply, taking another drink.  He was pleasant with her when he was on the clock - he didn’t need to be while he was drinking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her frown at him.  She was feeling off-put, which is exactly what Tiran was hoping for.  It sent a pang through his chest, though, seeing her look at him like that.  Like he’d just taken her favorite varren away from her.

Her drinks arrived, and she transferred some credits over to the terminal before taking the drinks.  “Okay, well… I hope your night gets better.”  And then she was sashaying away.

Tiran finished his drink and ordered another.  He knew it was a bad idea, but sometimes bad ideas were the best ideas.

He had a crush on her.  It was stupid and pointless.  Turians didn’t usually go for the pining route.  If they saw something they wanted, they went for it.  Straightforward, to the point, no nonsense.  Tiran, himself, was usually the same way.  But there was something about this Pathfinder.  Something about her eyes, maybe, or the playful way she smiled.  How she winked at him as she passed through Operations on her way to see Tann or Kesh.

It was a temporary attraction to something he couldn’t have.  He knew that.  But it didn’t make things any easier.

He finished his second drink and ordered a third.

He turned on his stool and, against the screaming in his brain, scanned the crowd for the tiny human.  He finally found her.  She was on the dance-floor with her asari crewmate.  The two were bouncing to the music, bumping hips, their arms twining together.  They were laughing, their bodies undulating, crashing together and apart like waves and the shore.

He tried not to focus on Sara’s outfit - a short, slinky black dress that hugged curves Tiran hadn’t been aware she had.  Her waist was slender, her hips and thighs shapely, and….

Tiran looked away, trying to contain the soft growl that threatened to escape his throat.  Her breasts were fuller than he had anticipated - hidden as they were by her usual leather jacket and large scarf.

Tiran picked up his third drink and took a deep pull from it.  He could feel his inhibitions leaving him.  He could feel his desire mounting.  His mouth was watering with the thrill of the hunt that his body thought was taking place.

He had been with humans before - preferred them, even, much to his embarrassment.  Turians were not supposed to like the insolent humans; they certainly weren't meant to bed them.  But, once again, Tiran was reminded what an awful example of turian norms he was.

He finished his third drink and looked back to the dance floor.  Sara was gone, but her asari friend was dancing with a male, seeming to have not realized a much taller, thirstier human replaced Sara.

“Dance with me.”

Tiran was surprised she had been able to sneak up on him.  Her scent was intoxicating, and he knew it from a mile away.  It was sweet and dark all in one go - like crushed velvet and human plums and strawberries.

“I don’t dance.”

He could tell she was smirking at him when she said, “I don’t believe that.”

He looked up at her and felt his mouth watering anew.  His body hadn’t seemed to realize that he was no longer the apex predator stalking his soft, fleshy prey.  His prey had somehow ambushed him, and her eyes were making it impossible to break free.

He ordered another drink and then, after a pause, asked, “What do you want?”

“To dance with you,” she chuckled, leaning on the bar, eyes intent.

“To drink,” he clarified.

She glanced at the annoyed bartender and grinned.  “Another of those Aya drinks.”  To Tiran, she murmured, “Careful, Kandros.  I might start getting ideas that you like my company if you keep buying me drinks.”

“We can’t have that, can we?” Tiran murmured, talons scraping against the bar  He knew he had to keep himself in check or he’d be cutting through his gloves and denting the metal of the bar.  He knew he had to reign himself in, keep himself together.

It was hard to do when the smell of her was in his nose, and she filled out her dress like something from the most awkwardly arousing wet dream ever. He tried not to notice the long chain necklace that dipped between the swell of her breasts and descended into the darkness of her cleavage.  He tried not to think about how thin the skin of her throat was - how easy it would be to nip the skin and draw blood.

A growl did escape his mouth plates and Sara raised her brows at him, a soft smirk tilting her lips.  She took her drink and pushed Tiran’s closer to him.  “Drink up.  You owe me a dance.”

“I think if anyone owes anyone anything,” he began, realizing his words weren’t making as much sense as he wanted them to, “it would be you owing me.”

“Oh?” she asked, the rim of her glass gliding over her full lower lip.  She was watching him, her lips slightly parted, her hair down and spilling over her shoulder seductively.  There was nothing innocent about her now, now that she was on shore leave, now that she had literally and metaphorically let her hair down.  “And why would I owe you, Kandros?”

“I bought you a drink, Ryder,” he returned.  He was proud of himself - there wasn’t any tinge of emotion there, no hint of desire.  He was doing well, given his situation and their conversation.  It was bordering on too familiar faster than Tiran could stop it.

“Don’t you know buying a girl a drink doesn’t get you anything a girl doesn’t want to give?” she returned silkily, drinking half of her drink down in three consecutive pulls.  She put her glass down and ran a finger along her lower lip, collecting a bit of alcohol that had escaped her mouth.  Her finger slid between her cherry lips and her eyes never left his.

She was smirking.  She had caught his eyes following her finger.  He was trapped and he knew it.

He finished his drink quickly and stood.  “Unlike some, I have work in the morning.”

She grinned at him, leaning back slightly, allowing him space to squeeze past her.  “No, you don’t.  You have five days off, mandatory, orders straight from Tann.”  Tiran would have gaped at her if he wasn’t so busy boring holes into her eyes with his.  “You don’t need to lie to me, Kandros.  My feelings can hold up to rejection just fine.”

“And what proposition would I be rejecting?” he asked, wishing he could kick himself as soon as the words left his mouth.  His voice was flanging heavily.  There was a slight thrum in it.  If she knew anything about turians, she would know what it meant and all of his attempts to hide, to cover his tracks, would be for nothing.

Sara took her time finishing her drink, her eyes never leaving his.  Once she placed the glass back on the bar, she replied silkily, “I want you to dance with me.  Haven’t you been listening?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Pathfinder.”

She smirked.  “Call me Pathfinder again and I’ll have to tell you about all of the other bad ideas I have.”

If Tiran had been a weaker turian, his knees might have given out at her tone.  At her threat.  Her promise.

“Ryder-"

“Sara,” she interrupted.

He swallowed.  Things were spiraling out of his control.  “Sara.”

She took his hand, bold and slightly aggressive, and tugged it.  “Dance with me,” she repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

And this time, Tiran gave in.


	2. Cycles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Warning:** Smutty goodness.
> 
> This chapter's title song is ["Cycles," by Methal and X Ambassadors.](https://open.spotify.com/track/0KTljCpQ0qNv2Zev3dAxMM) Please enjoy!

* * *

Tiran wasn’t a very strong dancer, but it turned out that he didn’t need to be.  Sara wasn’t a strong dancer, either, but her enthusiasm pulled him in effortlessly.  She swayed close to him, her body pressing against his, her arms weaving through the air, fingers trailing through her hair.  Her eyes were closed as she danced, her lips parted, and Tiran wanted nothing more than to take that full lower lip into his mouth, to press the sharp apex of his mouth plates against it, to hear her moan.

Instead, he settled on putting his hands on her waist, wishing his gloves and her dress weren’t in the way.

He tried to shake the thought from his mind and focus on nothing but the music.  The music, however, was doing nothing to help his growing frustration at Sara’s proximity.  It was dark and sensual, the beats so thick that they rattled his core.

Not to mention, her scent was enveloping him, making it harder and harder to escape from thoughts of her body beneath his, moving in time with him.  He closed his eyes.  Everything about her this evening was making it hard to suppress the feral urges the turian culture was too polite to mention in mixed company.

He opened his eyes and found her watching him with a look that was both dark and mischievous.  He might have thought it was sinister if it wasn’t for the way her lips ticked upward in a very pleased smirk.  “You seem stiff,” she said, her hands sliding over his arms, the light armor covering them.  “Loosen up.”

“How do you suppose I would do that?” he returned, making her smile widen.

“Well, I don’t know,” she began softly, almost too quietly for him to hear.  Her hands slid to his and moved them lower.  His palms were on her hips, his talons just slightly brushing over the swell of her ass.  “What do you normally do when you’re… _stiff?”_  And then she chuckled, a low, sultry sound.

It took all of Tiran’s willpower not to lean down and take her throat in his mouth, to feel her pulse speed up under the threat of danger and excitement.  He caught her innuendo - it was something humans loved.  Making things sound dirtier than they were. Tiran had never been affected by it, but there was something about the way Sara’s voice deepened, something in her purr, that was delicious.

He didn’t answer her taunt, though he desperately wanted to _show_ her what happened when he was stiff and needed a release.  “I think we should call it a night.”

“Or we could do the opposite of that,” she said.  Her hands were still on his, securing him to her hips.  He could have pulled away from her if he wanted. If he tried. But he didn’t want to, and he didn’t try.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” he sighed.  “So have I.”

“Well then, let’s work off some of this alcohol,” she cooed, pulling back but keeping one of his hands in hers.  She tugged him off of the dance floor, and Tiran felt his heart hammering in his chest.

He hadn’t pictured Sara like this - a hurricane in a small, fleshy body.  But that was exactly what she was. A gale. A tempest.

Her ship was aptly named, it seemed.  

He followed her through the packed club but pulled his hand out of hers once they were through the club doors, standing between hydroponics and the stairs leading up to the scientific wing.  “Where are we going?” he asked as he followed her toward the tram.  

She turned to him, smirking.  “Where do you think we’re going?”

He almost said, _If we’re going to my apartment, it’s the other way._ But he didn’t.  He managed that much, at least.

She grinned when he didn’t answer.  “I thought we could go do something fun.  I’ve never seen you in action before.”

He wasn’t sure if that was more innuendo.  In spite of all of his misgivings, he sighed and followed her onto the tram.

 

* * *

 

“Jesus, Kandros, get your head in the game  - three o’clock!”

Tiran ducked to the conveniently placed metal shipping crate on his right, popping out of cover to take two shots at the holo-kett - one in the chest, one in the head.  He ducked back down, glancing over in time to see Sara taking out another target.  

She glanced around before calling out, “I think that's the last of them.  Wave 4 done!”  She tossed her messy ponytail over her shoulder; her rented armor making a strange squealing noise as she walked toward him.  She dropped into cover beside him, her hip brushing against his arm as she did. She glanced over at him, her smile like the sunrise.  “Well?” she asked.

“Well what?” he asked.  He tried not to think about how fun the training center was at that moment - he had gone through the course a million times before, but somehow it was better with a partner.  Especially a partner as skilled as Sara Ryder.

She was smirking at him. _“Well,_ how is this for a first date?”

Tiran felt his fringe tingling.  “First date?” he repeated.

She chuckled and leaned in to place her lips against his mandible.  Even after she pulled her lips off of him, she lingered there, her warm breath on his neck. Tiran slowly turned to her, meeting her gaze with his own.

The alarm sounded, announcing that Wave 5 was starting.  

“Get your head in the game, Kandros,” she repeated, throwing herself over the cover and charging toward the new holographic enemies.

Tiran sat in silence for a few moments.  Getting his head in the game would be impossible now.  He had a feeling she’d done it on purpose.

 

* * *

 

“Ice cream?”

“Why not?” she challenged playfully.  She was back in her slip of a dress, her hips swaying as she sauntered into the cafeteria in her high heels that were too tall and too slender for Tiran to understand.

The cafeteria was empty - granted, it was 0200, but Tiran had almost anticipated some night shift ensigns to be around.  

Sara went to the massive machine that replicated food, turning around to glance back at Tiran.  “What do you want?  Do turians have ice cream?”  

Tiran stifled the chuckle that threatened to spill past his mouth.   _Do turians have ice cream?_ Of course, they didn’t, but they, of course, had things similar.  He didn’t say any of it, though.  Instead, he joined her at the machine, standing a comfortable distance from her.  “Just genea for me.”

Sara raised an eyebrow at him and repeated the word into the replicator.  Within a minute, the replicated spit out the item - a steaming mug of something that looked like coffee but smelled like the ocean.  Sara picked it up and moaned delightedly.  The sound was odd and out of place, making Tiran narrow his eyes.

“Don’t drink it,” Tiran warned her.

She made a face at him.  “I’m not stupid; I’m not going to drink it.  My hands are just cold.”  She held the mug close for a few additional seconds before she handed the cup over to him.  She then leaned into the machine, ordering, “Bowl of ice cream, chocolate, with sprinkles.”

“Sprinkles?” Tiran repeated.

When the ice cream was ready, she showed it to Tiran.  Multicolored shards covered it.  “Sprinkles,” she alleged, sounding oddly proud.

“They look like plastic.”

“They kinda taste like plastic,” she admitted with a grin.  “But they’re cute.”

The pair sat at a long table near the entrance of the cafeteria.  Sara was humming as she ate her ice cream, seeming oblivious to how Tiran was watching her from over the lip of his mug.

He watched how she put the dark substance into her mouth, how her lips curled around the spoon, how her tongue darted out to lick her lips.

Tiran wanted nothing more than to taste her tongue. To feel it in his mouth. To feel it on his neck. To feel it sliding over his cock.

He felt the stirring low in his abdomen. His cock was tingling, threatening to push through the seam of his plates, unbidden. Tiran cleared his throat, put his mug down, and tried to think of things that annoyed him.  

Tann.  

 _Yeah, that does it,_ Tiran thought with a grimace.

When he opened his eyes, Sara was watching him, unabashed when he caught her staring.  Her spoon was in her mouth, her lips wrapped around it.  She grinned at him and slowly pulled it from between her lips, her tongue flicking out to trace the curve of the utensil.

Tiran tried to think about Tann again, to push down the desire, but Sara’s tongue had somehow hypnotized him.  He couldn’t look away.

She dropped her spoon into her empty bowl, pushing it away from her.  She slid his genea mug away from him and, before he could protest, she was on the table, slithering across the metal to sit directly in front of him.  

Tiran could smell her sex.  Her legs were to either side of him, spread perfectly, her dress riding up high on her hips.  He could see the small slip of black cloth she called underwear.  He could see it did nothing to hide her from view.  Before he could admire the view entirely, she leaned forward so that her breasts were almost pressing into his face plates.  Her hands rose to his mandibles, her fingertips like ice.

“See how cold my hands are?” she asked with an irresistible smirk.  “Can you think of some way we could... warm them up?”

“Pathfinder-”

“You’re not supposed to call me that, remember?” she breathed.  “I told you if you called me that again, I’d have to tell you another bad idea.”

Tiran swallowed.  She didn’t realize what dangerous territory she was in.  She didn’t realize he was one prod, one silky press of her supple thighs from tearing her dress off and shoving himself into her, biting her neck, dragging his claws over the flesh of her slender waist.  

“You know what I did last night?” she began gently, supporting herself on one arm while the other trailed across her body, hand flitting over her collarbone, the swell of a breast, the small peak of one nipple.  “What I did while we were coming back here? Back to the Nexus?”

“Ryder-”

“Don’t,” she murmured, closing her eyes, her hand dipping down to trace her stomach.  “Don’t call me that, Kandros.  Not Pathfinder, not Ryder.  Please.”

“Sara,” he murmured.  His mouth was watering as he watched her hand descend lower and lower.  “We need to… we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” she asked innocently as her fingers slipped between her legs, caressing over the tops of her thighs.  She moaned softly as one long, slender finger bumped her sex.  “Do you know what I did last night?” she repeated.

Tiran swallowed.  He knew he should get up and leave.  Anyone could come in at any time.  There were cameras, for spirits’ sake.  If this happened, it would be known station-wide by the following morning.

“What… what did you do?” he asked, regretting it immediately.

Her smile widened as she pushed her panties to the side and ran her fingers along the seam of her glistening labia.  “I did this… and thought of you.”

Tiran growled low in his throat.  His composure was hanging by a thread.  He pulled up his omni-tool in a fog, accessing the security cameras and retroactively turning them off before he and Sara had arrived in the cafeteria.  

“Nervous someone will find out?” she murmured.  One of her fingers was making slow, deep circles on her clitoris.  “Nervous someone will see that you’re slumming it with a human?”

Tiran wasn’t sure what ‘slumming it’ meant and he didn’t care.  He was too busy frothing at the idea of tasting her on his tongue.

“Tiran,” she breathed, forgetting her previous line of questioning.  Her finger had sped up, and her eyelids were fluttering.  “What did you do last night?  Did you… did you think about me?  Did you think about this?”

Tiran didn’t want to admit he had thought about her - that he thought about her every night he went to bed, alone and tired.  That, when he heard the Tempest would be dry-docking for a shore leave, something inside of him had prayed that this kind of thing, the sort of thing that only happened in dreams, would occur.  

She must have seen the answer in how his eyes fixed on the hand between her legs.  She must have known, watching the way he was committing every stretch of visible skin, every gentle fold and every sweep of her hand to memory.

He leaned down to shove his face into her, to taste her, to run his long tongue across the silken, dewy expanse of skin.  But Sara stopped him, her knees closing.  She was smirking at him.  “Show me,” she whispered.

“Show…?”

Sara looked like she wanted to roll her eyes, but she must have done something she liked between her thighs because she moaned, her head tilting back, eyelids fluttering.  When she finally caught her breath, she met his gaze.

“Show me what you do when you’re… stiff.”  There it was again.  Her innuendo - although it was more of an encouragement than an innuendo now.   “Show me what you did last night when you thought about me.”

“Sara-” he began but broke off.  He had tried so hard.  He had fought for so long.  But she had brought him to his knees somewhere along the way.  He was a dead man who hadn’t realized he was dead yet.

He stood quickly, making Sara yelp softly, and fumbled with his armor.  The straps were usually so easy to manage. He’d had years of practice with them.  Even so, his fingers were finding it hard to get the straps loosened.

He finally got it off, leaving him in the thin civilian clothing he wore underneath.  His pants were off, pooling at his feet, and he pressed a hand along the seam low on his abdomen, caressing it gently.

Sara was watching him, intrigued, her fingers slowing.

“Keep going,” he ordered her sharply.  His cock slid out then, already hard and yearning.

Sara’s eyes widened in surprise - Tiran assumed it was because of his size.  He knew human men were smaller, fleshier, less angular.  Even so, the look on her face was one of excitement, not concern.  Her fingers sped up again - one slid inside her passage while her thumb circled her clit.

She was moaning and bucking softly, hips pressing harder into her hand.  Tiran watched her squirm and stroked his cock, admiring how she moved.  Imagining she was moving like that on top of him.

Tiran growled a low, long rumble and leaned into her, one hand next to her hip, supporting his weight.  The other glided across his cock which was now bumping between her thighs, making her moan and arch her back.

“Lay down,” he ordered her.

She smirked.  “Or what?”

Tiran grabbed her throat with his free hand - not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to get her attention.  “Or I’ll make you.”

She smirked at him, daring him.  “Or, how about we do what I want to do and next time, we do what you want to do.”

Tiran growled, his hand tightening around her throat.  Her eyelids fluttered, and she groaned in pleasure, pressing her neck into his hand.  “I want to fuck you.”

“Plenty of time for that later, Kandros,” she chuckled breathlessly.  Her fingers were rubbing and thrusting hard.  He could feel her movements from where his body touched hers.  “I want to watch you come.”

Tiran didn’t argue anymore.  There was no point - he wasn’t about to force himself on her, and he was more than happy to give in to her odd request.  Especially if she decided to give into his later.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be hoping for another round.  He was aware that she was a Pathfinder and their union would never be more than occasional stress relief.  He knew that she probably just wanted a few nights of passion with someone she didn’t have to see daily.

Even so, he secretly hoped that, at the very least, the next five days would involve their bodies twining together on more than one occasion.

He felt his orgasm coming close, and he began panting heavily, leaning his mouth down to pull her collarbone into it.  He closed his lip plates around it softly, making her mewl in pleasure.

“Harder,” she whispered, hips bucking.

He clamped down a little harder, and Sara gasped, arching her back, her breasts pressing harder into his neck.  She was suddenly shaking, her breath coming out in long, lust-filled groans.

She was gorgeous.  She was always gorgeous, of course, but there was something magical in watching a human female orgasm.  Seeing the expression of pure, unadulterated joy.  The release.

Tiran grunted, his hand speeding up in his cock.  “I need to-”

“Right here,” Sara murmured, tapping her chest.  She pulled the neckline of her dress down, and her breasts were suddenly there, her nipples hard and dark.  

Tiran came before he knew what was happening.  The gray fluid splashed along her chest and neck, splattering as it landed.

Tiran slumped, his forehead on her shoulder.  All he could smell was her scent, her sweat, and his come.

Sara caressed a hand over his crest and down to his fringe, her hands much warmer than they had been just minutes before.

“Take me home,” she whispered.

There was weariness in her voice, and when Tiran pulled back, he found her blinking at him, looking happy and sleepy in equal measures.  

He knew he should have taken her to her cabin in the Hyperion.  He knew he should have said goodnight and left.  He knew he should have pretended their cafeteria mishap had been just that - a mishap.

But he didn’t.  He got dressed, helped her clean off, and then turned the cameras back on.  They left the cafeteria, and Tiran led her to the tram, knowing he was taking her back to his apartment.  Knowing nothing good would come of it.


	3. Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Warning:** Smut!
> 
> This chapter's title song goes out to ["Tear You Apart," by She Wants Revenge.](https://open.spotify.com/track/3urJUvRhgMrwydaTQFVEg9) Please enjoy!

By the time the tram arrived at the sprawling crew residential wing, Sara was asleep, laid out across three seats, her head on Tiran’s thigh.  She was snoring fitfully, and Tiran had a momentary flash of panic when he realized that he either needed to wake her up or carry her to his apartment.

He sighed a sharp blast of annoyance.  The tram was  _ting_ ing at him pleasantly but insistently as if telling them, _Get up, fuckers, I've got shit to do._

Tiran gently lifted her head off of his lap and stood.  The only response from her was a soft sigh as her face wormed its way into the seat.  In some small, far-off part of his being, Tiran considered leaving her there. Letting her sleep it off and hoping she’d forget all about their ill-advised tryst.  It was still innocent enough that perhaps, maybe, they could come back from it.  Forget it.

He let out a little growl as he hoisted her up into his arms.  He knew he’d never forget about it. If nothing else, his nights alone would have a better memory to fixate on than before.

He carried her through the empty halls, past the penthouse that was Tann’s apartment.  He knew the cameras would pick them up - it would be suspicious for him to be turning them all off as he went through the halls.  It had been a risk just to shut down the cafeteria ones.

He was sure someone would notice the thirty-minute gap in the recording. But, somehow, he didn’t actually care.

He made it to his door and grappled with shifting the limp human in his arms so he could thumb the keypad to open the door.  It finally took pity on him and opened, allowing him to stumble in.

And then, standing in the middle of his living room, he was once again lost.

Where did he put her?  The couch?  The bed?

The couch seemed so impersonal; it seemed rude, somehow, to leave her there.  But was the bed any better?  

Tiran sighed again and took her past the room dividers that separated his bedroom from his living room.  The bed was larger than he needed, but he was suddenly thankful for it.  He laid her out on one side of it, pulling away and kicking himself mentally for letting his gaze fall on her slender neck, her breasts which were pushing against the straining top of her dress, her legs and a smooth expanse of ass that were poking out from the hemline.

He felt his cock stirring again, and he bit his tongue sharply.  The pain and the blood focused him, made him push back the desire that the sight of her body on his bed was eliciting.  He returned to the living room, hesitating.  He needed to sleep on the couch.  He needed to keep his distance.  She was drunk, for one, and she was asleep.  He couldn’t be in there with her - there was too much chance for him to be a fucking creep and do something stupid like touch her.

Or, more realistically, touch himself while watching her.

Tiran stripped out of his armor and put it all on the small dining table.  He took off his civilian tunic but left his pants on before entering the bathroom.  He splashed water over his face, trying to clear his mind and fight back the beginnings of a throbbing headache.  He looked at his reflection and silently berated himself, silently hated himself for not being strong.  For not being able to resist a tiny human.

 

* * *

  

When Tiran awoke, he was in bed, facing the wall.  He groaned, already expecting the worst.  At some point, he must have returned to the bed and probably did something stupid.

He turned over slowly and found the other side of his bed undisturbed and made up primly. There was no sign of Sara.  No sign she had even been there other than the faintly sweet, faintly dark scent of her perfume.

“Fuck,” he groaned, running a hand over his face plates.  He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but he was sure it had been awful.  At best, she’d gone back to her cabin and was furiously washing her skin off in the shower.  At worst, she was telling Tann what had happened.

Tiran tried not to focus on the mental imagine of her in the shower, but it was a losing battle.  In spite of his self-loathing, in spite of knowing his actions were only going to make things worse, he reached down to his abdominal plates and ran a finger along the seam.  His cock slowly slid out, and he ran his hand over it, feeling it harden, lengthen, the ridges sharp against his palms.

He thought of the steam caressing her body - her hand trailing over her body as it had in the cafeteria, touching her breasts, dipping lower and lower.  He pictured her biting her lower lip, groaning, her head falling back, dark, wet hair trailing down her shoulders.  He thought of how her fingers moved between her legs, unhurried and then faster the closer she came to her release.

Tiran was gasping against the thoughts, his hand speeding up, his climax right around the corner.

And then he heard his door slide open.

Tiran gasped, his cock twitching before exploding, his come wetting the white sheets in a large, dark splotch.

There she was, dressed in a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, her dark hair tossed into an unceremonious bun on top of her head.  She was holding a tray laden down with rich-smelling foods and drinks.

She raised an eyebrow at him, taking in the sight before her.  And then she smirked.  “Well then.  Having fun in my absence?”

Tiran sighed, pressing his face into the bed, unsure what to say or do.  He finally decided the best course of action was deflection.  “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, please,” she chuckled, turning away from him and walking back into the living room.  He heard her set the tray down on the coffee table before turning on his vid player.  “Come on, before your food gets cold,” she called.  And then she added teasingly, “Don’t bother with clothes; I can strip if it will make you feel more comfortable.”

Tiran sighed and pulled his pants back up around his waist before joining her in the living room.  “What’s all of this?” he asked.  What he really wanted to ask was where she’d gone.  Why she’d taken off without a word, leaving him to assume she was regretting everything.  Secretly _hoping_ she was regretting everything.  It would have made things much easier if she’d simply disappeared from his apartment. From his personal life.

She glanced over at him, eyes lingering on his pants.  She was still standing, scrolling through vid options on her omni-tool.  “I figured I should get us breakfast while I was out.  I had an interview with Keri, and I needed to make sure I didn’t look like I’d spent a night - and morning - drinking and fucking the head of Security.” 

“We didn’t fuck,” he replied smoothly, his voice not even wavering.  He was proud of that.  He lowered himself onto the couch, glancing over the tray.  There were assorted turian and human breakfast items, as well as a stein of coffee and one of genea.

He reached for genea as she selected a movie - one that wasn’t an acceptable morning-coffee-vid.  It was about dominance and sex and all of the things Sara seemed to exude now that she was on shore leave.  The leads were a human female with fiery red hair and a turian male with dark blue clan markings and an impossibly long tongue.

She turned the volume off, at least, and then turned to look down at him.  He was removing the cap from the stein and taking a long pull of the hot liquid, feeling it replenishing him, warming him from the inside.

And then she began pulling her sweatshirt off, and his body warmed even more.  Her tank top underneath was practically threadbare.  It featured Blasto, a character Tiran had been all too eager to forget.  And then her tank came off, leaving her in a lacy black bra and her leggings.

“Sara-”

She leaned over, sliding her leggings off.  Her boyshort underwear matched her bra.  Tiran tried not to stare, but it was impossible.  He wasn’t sure how she knew exactly how to short-circuit his brain, but she was adept at it.

She lowered herself onto the couch beside him, sitting much too close, her thigh pressing against his.  She acted like nothing was amiss as she grabbed her stein of coffee and took a deep pull from it.

“What are you doing?” he asked.  He controlled his voice, but there was an edge of something like panic rising in his chest.  He had anticipated this being simple - her leaving him with some masturbation material and going back to the corners of the Nexus that he didn’t inhabit.  But here she was, mostly naked, sitting on his couch like it happened all of the time.

She glanced over at him, her lips twitching upward.  The dark eye makeup from the previous night was gone.  Her red lip stain was gone. She looked like she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all, in fact; the light smatter of freckles over the bridge of her nose was darker than he’d ever seen it.

She was somehow more beautiful like this.  Tiran wanted to reach out and brush the fall of side-swept bangs from her eyes so he could look at their dark depths without distraction.  He wanted to trace her lower lip with a talon.  He wanted to feel her tremble beneath his hands.

“I am enjoying breakfast with the most handsome person on the Nexus,” she replied simply, long, dark eyelashes dusting across her high cheekbones.  “And enjoying a much too sexual vid for so early in the morning.”

Tiran chuckled in spite of himself.  He leaned over, rummaging through the food items.  She had done well when picking out things for him.  Too well, in fact.

“How did you know to get these?” he asked, picking up a plate of meat skewers.  

“Oh, um, I called Vetra.  She suggested all of it.”

Tiran nearly dropped the plate. Vetra Nyx had been one of the biggest pains in his ass when she was on the Nexus.  She had a habit of fudging the truth and bending the rules.  Generally, Tiran would look the other way, but he had always suspected her of smuggling things off and onto the station.  He told her as much at one point.  She had replied by calling him a blowhard.

“You… you called Vetra?  You told her…?”

Sara rolled her eyes, grabbing her plate of eggs and bacon.  “Please.  I didn’t tell her who I was getting it for.  And she didn’t ask, by the way.  I can be discreet.”

Tiran snorted at that.  This was the girl who began masturbating on a cafeteria table with no regard for privacy or concern for decorum. _Discreet_ was something she seemed entirely incapable of.

They ate in silence.  Tiran tried not to look at the vid screen, at how the leads were locked in a passionate kiss, how the turian was biting the human’s lower lip, licking her blood seductively, making the human arch and gasp in pleasure.

Sara, on the other hand, seemed unabashedly entranced.  “Is that a thing?  Biting?” she asked, putting her empty plate back on the tray.

Tiran cleared his throat before placing his plate on top of hers.  “Don’t you know?”

She glanced over at him, tilting her head to the side like a confused varren.  “What do you mean?”

“You can’t tell me I am the first turian you’ve tried to seduce.”

 _“Tried?”_ she teased.  “I’ve never been with a turian before.  Always wanted to, I just never really found one I trusted.”  She smirked.  “Or one I’ve wanted enough to chase after.”

Tiran’s mouth was watering, and his cock was twitching.  “Oh?” was all he managed to say.

“Trying to get me to flatter you, Kandros?  I didn’t think you were the type.”

“Tiran,” he corrected her, eyes never leaving hers.  “I think we’re past formalities.”

She seemed to think about that for a moment.  “I guess we are… Tiran.”

They watched one another for a moment before Tiran growled low in his throat.  He loved the way her eyelids fluttered when he did it - how she seemed to enjoy the thrumming, the need coursing through him. “Biting is unquestionably a thing,” he answered belatedly, observing her face for a reaction.

And a reaction he got.  She bit her lower lip, smile delicious.  “I’ve always appreciated a bit of violence in my sex.”

Something shifted within Tiran. Something dark. He kicked the coffee table away, knocking dishes and their steins to the floor.  Sara yelped and then giggled when he lowered himself in front of her, grabbing her hips and pulling her so that her ass was on the edge of the couch, her legs to either side of his crouched form.

He grabbed her panties and looked up at her.  “Yes?”

“Yes,” she breathed without hesitation.

He tore the panties off of her, sliding them down her legs before descending on her.  His tongue took its time exploring her wet folds, feeling her thighs pressing against his shoulders, the tension in her body melting out with every pass of his tongue over her clitoris.

He had been with humans before - had tasted them on his tongue.  They were all wonderful, in their own way, but Sara… there was something about her taste that was uniquely her own.  It was savory like his favorite meat skewers but as sweet as gillen - the turian equivalent to ice cream.  She was wetter than he was used to.  Perhaps that was just because she had been telling the truth when she said she trusted him, wanted him, was willing to chase him. 

She was gasping and moaning, her hips pressing the apex of her legs into him, wanting more.  

And so he gave her more.

He slipped a finger inside of her passage which tightened around him.  He was careful to make sure his talon didn’t scrape too hard against her sensitive, slick skin.  He kept them buffed, but it had been a week or so since he had last done it.  They were beginning to get sharp again.  The last thing he wanted was their first real sexual encounter to end in a trip to Medical.

Sara was gasping, her hands lowering to smooth over his crest and fringe.  Her fingers deftly found a crease between the fringe and the unprotected leather at the base of his neck and pressed gently.

Tiran growled, his cock sliding out of him and nearly tearing his pants with its insistence.

He pulled back slightly, licking his lip plates.  His finger kept sliding in and out of her, speeding up slightly.  “You’ve done this before,” he said, almost accusingly.  How else would she know about the soft spot that drove turians wild?

Sara smirked at him.  “No.  I just do my research.”  Her fingers pressed a little harder into the spot and Tiran gasped past the desire threatening to blind him.  “Now get back to work,” she breathed.

Tiran lowered himself between her legs but used his free hand to lift her thigh up onto his shoulder.  She moved her other leg to match and groaned, pressing the muscled flesh into the sides of his face, her fingers still scrabbling under his fringe.

He felt her climax mounting before she even realized it was swelling around her.  His tongue curled around her clit, his finger speeding up as it fucked her.  Her muscles were bunching and releasing, her hips bucking against him.  

“Oh _God,”_ she whimpered reverently between panting.  “Tiran… oh _fuck.”_

His tongue passed over the tip of her clitoris, and she was suddenly seizing around him, her powerful thighs squeezing into his neck and mandibles with enough force to hurt.  She was crying out - loud, long gasps - and her fingers pressed into the soft spot while her other hand squeezed his fringe.

When she finally came down, she slumped into the couch, breathing raggedly.  “Holy shit,” she whispered.   

Tiran took his time drinking her in, relishing her taste before reluctantly pulling away.  He wanted to tell her she tasted like a sunset, but his delivery had never been good enough for flowery words or poetry.  So he settled for watching her as she caught her breath, committing her pleasure to memory, stroking his talons over her thighs.

She glanced down at the tenting of his pants and grinned.  “I think we need to do something about that.”

“It’s not neces-”

Sara got to her feet slowly, wavering for a moment on her trembling legs.  “Don’t be greedy, Tiran. It’s only fair that I get a taste, too,” she murmured silkily, taking her hair down from its ties and letting it fall in loose waves around her shoulders.  “Get on the couch.”

Tiran thought about arguing with her, but he knew he wasn’t strong enough for that. He pushed his pants off and took her place on the couch, watching her slide between his thighs, her mouth descending on his cock, tongue slathering his tip, making his breath hitch.  He grabbed fistfuls of her hair, guiding her into long, slow passes over his twitching cock.  

She was a trooper, taking in almost half of his erection into her mouth.  He had never seen a human handle a cock the way she did.  She’d definitely had practice - maybe not with turians, but she knew her way around an engorged shaft.

Tiran felt a surge of possessiveness overtake him but quashed it as quickly as it rose.  He knew his way around a vulva - he had no reason to get jealous.  After all, it was _his_ cock that was twitching in her mouth now.

His orgasm was building, too soon and too strong, and he found himself unable to breathe past the crashing waves of it.  His hands tightened in her hair, and she seemed to take that as an indication to take his cock into her mouth deeper, sucking harder.  He could feel himself slamming into the back of her throat, but she somehow kept going, groaning in pleasure as she did.

Tiran gasped.  “I’m close,” he wheezed, his voice barely understandable with the thick flanging.  But Sara just sped up.  “Sara, I’m going to -- fuck, Sara, pull back.”

But she didn’t, and he came in a rush, his seed shooting down her throat in thick rope after thick rope.

When Sara pulled back, she was smirking, wiping her lower lip seductively with one red-painted nail.

“You need to take a pill,” he whispered past the blood roaring in his head, making it hard to hear or talk or even think.  “Top drawer of the dresser.”

“Pill?” she repeated. 

“Allergy tablet,” he clarified, closing his eyes and leaning his head over the back of the couch.  He felt his deflated cock sliding back between his plates and let out a shuddering breath.

Sara was suddenly on his lap, her thighs on either side of him, her slick sex pressing into his abdominal plates.  “You think I’m not already taking them?  That I didn’t buy some first thing when I got back here?”

“You planned this,” he accused her without any heat.

“Maybe,” she chuckled, leaning in to kiss his left mandible.  “But you agreed to it.  Quite willingly.”

He couldn’t argue with her there.

“Besides,” she purred.  “You’ve been taking them, too.  What’s that all about?”

He didn’t answer - didn’t need to.  She was grinning like she already knew the answer.

He’d wanted this as much as she had.  He just had turian inhibitions holding him back.  Embarrassment.  Some dumb fucking idea of duty that didn’t include bedding aliens.

She kissed his mandible again before pulling away and standing.  “Can I use your shower?”

He nodded, pointing vaguely toward the door behind him.  She was walking away, grabbing a bag from the corner as she did. He hadn’t noticed it before. She was evidently planning on sticking around for a while.

He wasn’t sure why that pleased him so much, but it did.

 

* * *

 

 

Sara had been called away for most of the afternoon, meeting up with her crew, her friends.  Tiran was partially glad that he had some time alone to process all that had happened over the past twenty-four hours.  But he was also missing her presence. 

Her scent was lingering in the apartment, trying to drive him mad.  He would catch whiffs of it when he sat on the bed or the couch.  When he entered the bathroom.  It was like she hadn’t even left. Like she was still flitting through the room, invisible, untouchable.

When she finally got back, she was grinning widely.  “So, Peebee asked about you.”

Tiran groaned.  “She saw us last night." 

It wasn’t a question, but Sara nodded anyway.  She flopped down on the bed, sprawling out as if she owned the place.  “I told her to mind her own business, but I’m pretty sure she knows we’re fucking.”

“We haven’t actually fucked,” he reminded her.   _Yet,_ he had almost added.

She rolled her eyes.  “Oh, hey, wanna go out tonight?”

There was only one place to go out on the Nexus, and they had been there last night.  “Haven’t we done that already?”

“Oooh, Tiran Kandros doesn’t like repetition,” she giggled, shaking her head.  “Impromptu party in Pathfinder Hall.  Peebee set it up.”

Tiran’s mandibles flared wide.  “Tann agreed?”

“Kind of,” Sara replied vaguely.  “Anyway, there’s going to be alcohol and music and lots of bad decisions, if I had to guess.”

“So, basically, the Vortex.”

Sara rolled her eyes again.  “If you don’t want to go-”

Tiran sighed.  “I’ll go if you want me to.  Parties just… aren’t my thing.”

“Don’t worry, Ti,” she cooed.  “I’ll keep you safe.”


	4. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Warning:** Smut (are you sensing a theme?).
> 
> This chapter's title song is ["Desire," by Meg Myers.](https://open.spotify.com/track/3kG6GPkDkV2RQTm9QdYN9Z) Please enjoy!

Tiran and Sara sat on the outskirts of the party, drinks in hand, deep in conversation.

It wasn’t how Tiran had imagined the party going - especially after the previous night’s rambunctiousness at Vortex.  But Sara was acting more like the Sara he had first grown to admire.  She was sweet, she was witty, and her attention was all consuming, her eyes never once leaving his.

“What about you?” he asked softly.

She raised an eyebrow, adjusting herself on the couch so that she was angled toward him more sharply, her knee brushing his.  “What about me what?  Have I ever been to Palaven?”

He snorted.  “No.  Where are you from?”  And then, almost as an afterthought, _“Have_ you been to Palaven?”

“I went once with my dad,” she shrugged slightly.  “He was meeting with the Primarch or something.  I don't know.  We didn’t get to leave the hotel.  Scott and I were kids, and Palaven was still pretty anti-human at that point.”

Tiran hummed and took another drink from his glass.  “They’re still not that supportive… or, weren’t, I guess.  Hard to believe it’s been over six hundred years.  Who knows what’s going on there now.  Who knows if it’s even still there.”

His words seemed to make Sara sad.  She looked out around them, at all of the people dancing and drinking and laughing.  

“Sorry,” he said quickly.  “I didn’t mean to….”  He trailed off. He wasn’t even sure what he’d done.

She turned her smile back to him.  “It’s fine.  Just weird.  I try not to think about it, I guess.  It’s just… the not knowing.  Not knowing what happened.”  She cleared her throat before going back to his first question. “Scott and I were born on the Citadel.  My mom was originally from Korea, and my dad was from Puerto Rico.  Not that any of that means anything to you,” she added with a chuckle.

It didn’t, but he stored the information away for further investigation later.  “Did you ever go?”

“Not to Korea,” she said, rubbing her bare upper arm.  She didn’t seem cold, but something about the memory was making her gaze go cloudy.  “We did go to Puerto Rico once, though.  It was nice.  Fancier than I expected.  Lots of music, lots of life.”  She smiled faintly and shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It never felt like home, though.  We were definitely Citadel brats.”

Tiran cleared his throat and finished his drink.  “Do you… want to talk about your brother?”

Tiran seemed to have accurately guessed what was bothering Sara because her lower lip trembled slightly.  She downed the rest of her drink and coughed softly.  “Not really.  There’s not much to tell.  I love the dope, and I hate that he’s not here with me.  Exploring.  Getting the shit shot out of him,” she added, snorting back her laughter.

Tiran had told himself that he would keep his hands to himself at the gathering.  He had to maintain some semblance of professionalism.  Even so, he reached over to take her hand in his, caressing her knuckles with his thumb.  “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged but looked thankful for his words.

Tiran reached out for her glass.  “I’ll get us more.  And then we should dance.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “I thought you said hands off tonight?”

Tiran leaned in close, his mouth plates brushing her cheek for a split second before he pulled back.  “Things change.”

“So they do,” she grinned, a flicker of her charming self returning.

Tiran went to the makeshift bar that had been set up and divided into dextro- and levo-sections.  He poured Sara a drink that was dark blue before going to the other area and getting himself something that looked like green fire.

In the time he was gone, perhaps three minutes, Sara had managed to acquire an admirer - a very drunk, very handsy human.  When Tiran approached, Sara was in the process of pushing the human’s hand off of her knee and saying “-date is going to be back soon, and you probably don’t want him seeing you here.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he slurred, leaning in closer.

Sara pushed him off of her with a quick, hard jab to his sternum.  He floundered for a moment, looking stunned.

Tiran saddled up beside Sara, handing her both drinks.  He glanced down at the human whose eyes widened slightly at the sight of him.  “Back off,” was all Tiran said.

The human was up and off of the couch quickly, muttering about _goddamn turians_ as he did.

Tiran took his former seat beside her and shook his head.  “Can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” he tried to joke.  

Sara shrugged, handing him his drink.  “What can I say, I’m that fucking good looking.”

“You are,” he agreed - or tried to.  He was interrupted by a fist connecting with his neck.

 _Don’t wear armor,_ Sara had chided him before they left for the party.   _Who in the hell is going to start shit when the head of Nexus Security is there?_

And now Tiran was getting punched in his unprotected neck.  

He sputtered for a moment, turning disbelieving eyes to the drunken human he thought he’d scared off.  Tiran sighed and handed his drink back to Sara.  “Just a minute,” he grumbled.

He stood up, dwarfing the human.  But if nothing else, drunkenness made the dumbest people feel invincible.  The man was wavering there, looking cocky.  “What now, freak?” he asked, words interrupted only with a burp.

Sara made a disgusted noise behind him, and Tiran chuckled softly.  “I told you to back off.  Don’t make this go south.”

The human punched him again, this time squarely in the cowl.  Unfortunately for the human, hard plates covered turian cowls.  The man fell back, cradling his hand, looking at Tiran as if the turian had just turned the appendage into a frog.

“Hopefully you learned something,” Tiran muttered and moved to sit back down.  

But the human hadn’t learned anything.  Instead of lunging at Tiran again, he did something even stupider - he lunged at Sara.

Tiran was up before the man had even crossed half of the distance, hand closing easily around the human's throat.  He squeezed, watching the man’s face turn red, eyes bulging.  “I told you to back the fuck off.  This is your last goddamn warning before I tear your fucking throat out.  You come near Ryder again, you fucking even _think_ about coming near her, and I will end you.  Do you understand me?”

The man gurgled.

“Blink if you fucking understand me.”

He blinked rapidly, tears spilling from his eyes.

“Tiran,” Sara murmured, suddenly there and put a hand on his arm.  “I think he gets it.”

Tiran squeezed a little harder, enjoying the gasps of agony from the puny human’s throat, before releasing him.  The man fell to the ground, holding his neck and gasping.

Sara’s eyes narrowed when Tiran finally looked at her.  She looked mad.  He wasn’t sure _why_ she looked mad, but she did.

“I can protect myself, Tiran.”

Tiran tried to push down the flare of heat that rushed up inside of him.  His blood was still boiling from his interaction with the man.  Her admonishment was not helping.  “I know that, Sara," he said slowly, darkly. "That doesn’t mean I can’t protect you on occasion.”

Her eyes narrowed further, and she stared him down for a few moments.  Finally, she muttered, “Follow me.”

Tiran wasn’t sure what to expect when he followed her through the Hall, past throngs of people who were entranced in their own dramas or watching Sara and Tiran’s.  

Sara opened a door at the end of the Hall and pulled him into it, shutting and locking it behind her.

They were in a bathroom.

Tiran turned to her, his eyes narrowing.  “What-”

She brushed past him and leaned against the opposite wall.  Her hands slipped under her short skirt, pulling it up over her hips and pushed her panties down, kicking them away.  “Fuck me.”

Tiran’s confusion was overwhelmed by the sight of her standing there, her skirt up around her waist, the gentle triangle of her sex bared before him.  He could already smell her arousal perfuming her skin.

The dark thing inside of him, the fire, turned from violent to lustful in an instant. Tiran’s pants were off in an instant as he crossed the space between them, pressing his body into her.  She moaned softly, hands going to his neck, nails biting into the soft, leathery skin.

“Touch me,” he said, leaning down to brush his mouth across her cheek, her ear, nestling into the loose curls of her dark hair.  

One of her hands slid down the length of his chest and caressed across his abdominal plates. Emboldened by Tiran's sharp intake of breath, Sara's hand pressed harder and his cock rocketing out of the seam and into her waiting palm.

Her fingers smoothed over his cock, caressing, her other hand finding the spot under his fringe, pressing in.  Tiran gently nipped her ear, making her buck her hips against his growing cock.  “Harder.”

He bit down harder, the edges of his teeth drawing pinpricks of blood from her lobe.  She hissed and arched.  “I need you inside of me,” she groaned, no-nonsense.

He wanted nothing more than to fulfill her request, but he so rarely had the mental wherewithal to tease her.  “How badly?” he asked, mouth moving to her neck, nipping roughly.

“Don’t mess with me, Tiran,” she replied silkily, “two can play this game.”  Her hand stopped moving on his cock in a warning.

He bit down a little harder, scraping his teeth above her thumping jugular.  She gasped, her hand tightening on his cock, making him groan.  And then she chuckled.  “Asshole.  I didn’t take you for the cheap tricks kind of guy.”

Tiran didn't reply.  Didn't _need_ to reply. He pulled back before grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her up against the wall.  She yelped, her legs going around his waist, her wet sex hovering just above the tip of his cock.  

“Do you want this, Sara?”

She looked like she wanted to roll her eyes but his cock twitched against her, rubbing across her entrance and she moaned loudly.  “You know I do!” she finally exclaimed.

“Then beg for it.”

Her eyelids fluttered.  “Fuck, Tiran, just… please?”

“Please what?” he breathed against her collarbone.

She let out an exasperated noise.  “Tiran, I need you inside me.  I want to… _fuck,_ I want to feel you inside me.  I need to.  I need-”

He thrust upward, his cock sliding inside of her glistening passage.  He felt her widen around him, her body trying to accommodate his girth and length.  She thrashed in his arms, her voice raising as she panted his name.

And then, suddenly, she begged, “Bite me.”

Tiran blinked back his shock but lowered his mouth back to her collarbone, putting his teeth on the skin and closing his jaws around the bone.  Sara was writhing in his arms.  “Harder,” she panted. “Goddamnit, Tiran, _harder._ Like you fucking mean it!”

His teeth sank into her skin, and she cried out, sharp and long, her passage tightening around his cock hard enough to hurt.  She was in the throes of an orgasm - he realized it too late to pull back and watch, to fully appreciate it.

When she came down, Tiran slowed his pace, thrusting into her rough and deep, hands tightening on her waist.

Tiran had never seen a woman as possessed as Sara was as her hands scrabbled over his neck, the back of his head, his fringe, his crest.  They were like anxious birds unable to find a roost.  Her mouth descended on his mandibles, his nose ridge, his neck.

Everywhere but his mouth.

He found it strange, even as he fucked the ever living hell out of her, that she hadn’t even tried to kiss him yet. He knew for a fact that it was unusual - the other women he had been with had wanted kisses before anything sexual happened.  And the sudden realization of that made him question her motives.  Was she just using him?  He had assumed so initially; he had even _hoped_ so.  But somewhere along the way, somewhere between their tryst on the couch and now, things had changed.

“Kiss me,” he said.

Her eyes opened, and she looked surprised.  “What?”

“Kiss me,” he repeated.

Her mouth hesitantly met his.  Hers was shockingly warm, almost as if all of her blood had centralized there.  The muscles in his mouth plates responded to her, relishing the feel of her.

And then her tongue slid into his mouth carefully, gently stroking across the sharp peaks of his teeth and meeting his eager tongue with hers.

His legs were beginning to shudder as his climax threatened to spill over him.  He pulled back only long enough to gasp, “Inside?”

“Inside,” she breathed, mouth returning to his, tongue caressing inside his mouth, exploring.

He came in a rush, burying himself deep inside of her as he growled, tongue twining with hers.

It took him a few minutes to stop gasping for air, pinning her to the wall with his larger, heavier body.  Sara didn’t seem to mind, though.  Her hands smoothed over the back of his head, his shoulders, and his chest.  Her lips gently roved over his face, flitting to his lips now and again.

When he was able to catch his breath and think clearly, he gently set her down on the ground.  “Thank you… for that,” he murmured, unsure what else to say.

She looked at him peculiarly.  “Don’t get so formal on me, Kandros.”  She went back to her panties and slid them up her legs, wiggling to get them into position properly.  She pulled down her skirt and grinned at him.  “Hey.”

“Hmm?” he asked, pulling his pants back up.

“Thanks,” she grinned.  “For that.  And for defending my honor back there.”

Tiran snorted, leaning in to trap her lips with his.  She responded immediately, purring against the pressure of his mouth on hers.

When he pulled back, he chuckled.  “Look who’s being formal now, Ryder.”


	5. Slowly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
> 
>  **Chapter Warning:** The fluffiest smut.
> 
> This chapter's title song is ["Despacito," by Luis Fonsi.](https://open.spotify.com/track/6rPO02ozF3bM7NnOV4h6s2) Please enjoy!

Vetra, Peebee, Sara, and Tiran had been stumbling through Hydroponics, drinking, for what felt like hours after leaving the Pathfinder Hall party. They wove between the rows and rows of plants, admiring the dextro- and levo-based foods that were thriving.  The women were all drunk, riotously so, but for once Tiran wasn’t too concerned about their shrieks of delight and heavy footfalls as they scampered to and fro.

It was his goddamn vacation, for spirits’ sake.  He had a right to let loose.  To let the others let loose.

“Do you know Sid said they have DNA for cats stored somewhere in here?” Vetra had stated in a whisper that wasn’t even close to a whisper.

“Fucking serious?” Sara and Peebee said at the same time.  Sara sounded thrilled.  Peebee looked disgusted.

“Cats are fantastic!” Sara insisted, waving her hands in the air.  “They’re so soft. Oh my _God,_ I would kill to pet a cat right now.”

“Well, they’re supposedly here somewhere,” Vetra said quietly.

“In Hydroponics?” Peebee asked incredulously.

“I’m pretty sure I would know if there were cats in Hydroponics,” Tiran interrupted, always the one to ruin people’s fun.

“I said their _DNA_ was around here somewhere, not the cats themselves,” Vetra sighed, the sound like a blast of static.

”Oh my _God,_ Tiran, let’s make a cat,” Sara whispered - or tried to whisper.  “We can name him George!”  She was suddenly hanging on his arm, pressing it against her breasts, making his mouth water thinking about their firm peaks under his tongue.  Her shirt shifted and he caught sight of the angry red bite mark on her collarbone, still faintly blushed with blood that they’d somehow missed.

“Holy shit!” Peebee exclaimed, catching sight of it, too.  She came over and traced the skin around it while looking fascinated.

Vetra only groaned and ran a hand over her face.  “So, this is actually happening?  You two?”  When neither denied it, she mumbled, “Ryder, you’ve got some weird fetishes.”

Sara made a face. She looked like she was pouting.  “I don’t have a fetish.  Don’t listen to her, Ti,” she said, reaching up to brush a hand over his mandible.  She tried to, anyway.  Her depth perception must have been shot to shit because she ended up punching him in the neck.

Tiran wheezed in surprise.  “That’s the second time someone’s hit me in the throat tonight,” he grumbled, rubbing his neck with his free hand.  

Sara covered her mouth with a hand, trying to hold in her laughter but failing miserably.  “I’m so sorry,” she giggled, not sounding sorry at all.

“Uh-oh,” Peebee began.  “Oh, we’re out of time, folks.  Ryder is spiraling.”

Vetra nodded, watching the small human giggle helplessly as she leaned against Tiran.  “She’s no good to us anymore.  Kandros, you might want to get her home before she starts crying.”

Tiran blinked.  “Crying?” he repeated.

Peebee snickered.  “The drunkenness always spirals out - it goes from _everything is sooo funny, I love this!_ to _everything is awful and I miss having sex, and --_ in, like, four seconds.  But I guess she’s got the sex thing covered now.”

“”I do not spiral,” Sara complained.

Tiran glanced down at Sara who was still covering her mouth with a hand.  “I’ll get her home.”  

Vetra’s mandibles wiggled at the _home_ comment.  “Or, you know, _her_ cabin.”

“Goodnight, Vetra, goodnight, Peebe,” was his only reply as he guided Sara away.

They managed to make it to his apartment before there was a single sign of tears, for which Tiran was very thankful.  He had been worried she might cause a scene in the crew residence hallway and draw more attention than either of them wanted at 0500.

Tiran helped Sara onto the bed, taking her shoes off for her, and Sara chuckled.  “We should have sex.”

“You’re drunk,” he replied simply, pulling her skirt off of her, followed by her shirt.

She moaned, grabbing at his mandibles and dragging his face down to hers.  “You’re going to undress me and then not let me have my way with you?”

“You couldn’t have your way with wet tissue,” he replied, kissing her softly before pulling back.

Sara pouted at him and he was sure the tears would start.  But instead of crying, she whispered, “Then why don’t _you_ have your way with _me?”_

Tiran tried to pretend that his mouth wasn’t watering, that the lingering taste of her blood in his mouth hadn’t been driving him slowly mad all night.  He tried pretending that his cock hadn’t been trying to escape its sheath for an hour.

He had to be good for once in his goddamn life.  He had to be strong.  She was too drunk. She was out of her damn mind with alcohol.

That somehow made the thought of taking her even more appealing.  The forbidden fruit.

“We can’t.”

“But I want you,” she whimpered.

He swallowed but didn’t answer.  Didn’t trust himself to answer.  He’d probably just say something stupid like, _I want you, too._

“I need you,” she moaned, a hand fluttering over the plain of her slender stomach.  She was moving softly, hips gently rocking her pelvis.  Tiran couldn’t look away.  Everything was sharpening.  He took in the details of her underwear, how the sheer lace didn’t hide anything from view.  How he could smell her. He knew if he put his tongue between her legs, the skin would be slick with her need.

Tiran let out a small growl, trying to fight against his baser nature.  “I can’t,” he said forcefully.  “I’ll go sleep on the couch if I can’t trust you to not… do _this.”_

She stilled immediately, her lower lip jutting out at him.  He pulled his shirt off and tossed it into the corner where he’d put her discarded clothing.  He was going to take his pants off but hesitated.  He didn’t need to be tempting her like that.

“Take them off,” she murmured as if reading his mind.

“That isn’t a good idea, Sara.”

She sighed.  “You get to ogle me, but I can’t ogle you?”

He could have pointed out that her bra and panties were still on - but he knew that would just lead to her taking them off and to him going insane with desire.  He could have pointed out that he wasn’t the drunk one, he wasn’t the one that could barely keep their eyes open.

He climbed into the bed, on his side, facing her.  “Will you behave?” he asked.

She shrugged.  “Maybe.”

Tiran swallowed and didn’t know what to say.

To his surprise, it only took ten minutes of heavy sighs and grumbles before she fell into a restless sleep.  No tears, although there had been an unhealthy amount of whining.  

He spent two hours watching her sleep, watching her eyes move under her closed lids.  Watching her breath flutter stray strands of hair.

He finally reached out to move a stray lock but her eyes opened right as he did.  She was suddenly lunging at him, her mouth covering his, a hand running across his cowl and down to his waist.

“Sara-” he tried to protest.

“Tiran,” she breathed against his mouth.  She wasn’t whining anymore; her tone was gentle, breath warm on his face.  “Tiran, please.”

He tried to remember how long it took humans to come down from drunkenness. Much longer than turians, he was sure of that much. He ran a hand through her hair, helpless to stop himself.  “Sara, we can’t,” he whispered, mouth lowering to meet hers again, hating himself for his weakness.  

“Please.  Tiran, please.  I need….” She trailed off, her head falling to his shoulder.  “I really need you to make love to me.”

Her words made his heart jump into his throat.  He hadn’t expected that.  She had been a gale-force wind the past few days.  She had been exuding so much angry, ferocious sexuality that he had somehow assumed that sweetness would bore her.  But here she was, curled up against him, begging him in the softest voice he’d ever heard.

Tiran covered her lips with his, running his talons through her hair, relishing in the way she gasped against his mouth.  Her tongue slid inside his mouth and tenderly caressed across his.

Tiran struggled to push his pants off without breaking his mouth from hers.  He finally managed and her hand was on his abdomen immediately, caressing across the plates.

Tiran pulled back only enough to slide down her body to pull her panties off of her.  There was a voice in the back of his mind that kept trying to remind him that she was drunk and this had been a terrible idea and that he needed to stop.

The voice got smaller and smaller the longer her hand caressed over his engorged cock.

He lightly pushed her back onto the bed, her dark hair fanning over the stark white sheets. Her chest was heaving with each breath, pushing harder against her bra.  Tiran reached behind her, talons fumbling with the clasps for a few moments before the lacy contraption fell away.

She shoved it off of her as Tiran slid himself between her legs, his cock pressing against her thigh.  He leaned down, lips brushing hers.  “You have to promise me,” he began, voice flanging.  “Promise me you want this.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Of course I want this.  Why wouldn't I-”

“You’re still drunk,” he reminded her.  “I can’t… I need you to give me some kind of consent, something that will make me stop worrying about doing this.”

Sara chuckled, her hand gliding down to his cock, gripping it gently.  “Tiran Kandros, I want this.  I want you.  I’ve wanted you since I met you.  There’s no way you don’t have my consent.  Now or any other time.”

That was all he needed.  He kissed her before guiding himself between her legs, slowly sliding inside of her.  She arched against him, the softest cry pushing past her lips.  Her hands were on the unprotected, leathery skin at the bend of his elbows, gently digging in.

He thrust into her gradually, watching how she moved beneath him, how her hips rose and dipped with his movements, matching his pace stroke for delicious stroke.  She was gasping, murmuring his name, her voice taking on a tone he didn’t recognize.

He slowed down, observing her lips as they moved in silent words.  He stopped moving and she moaned in frustration.  “Tiran, what-”

“I want to turn my translator off,” he said softly.  “I… want to hear you.  Just you.”

Sara’s gaze softened.  “I want that, too,” she murmured, pulling up her omni-tool and clicking through her options before sighing softly.  She looked slightly nervous.  Nervous to have him hear her, maybe.  Nervous to share such an intimate thing with another person.

Tiran clicked through his own settings quickly, turning the translator off.  He felt the same flare of nervous energy that Sara was no doubt feeling.  He was suddenly concerned what he would sound like to her.  They began moving together again and Sara’s panting was softer than it seemed through the translator.  She said something and her voice was like velvet, her words like rain falling to the ground.  

Tiran groaned, falling in love with her voice in a single instant.  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, knowing full well she didn’t understand him.  But he didn’t care.  He lowered his face to her neck, breathing in her scent, and whispered, “I could see myself falling in love with you, Sara.”

He said it as if he didn’t realize he was already headlong into doing so.

She caressed a hand over the back of his head, fingers gently massaging the soft spot there, her words returning.  They were soft, rasping just slightly, sounding so similar the the flanging in turian voices.  There was a natural vibrato there that stirred his chest.

Her face contorted slightly, her brow furrowing as her breathing became more ragged.  He reached down between their joined bodies, pressing his thumb against her clit, letting their combined movements rub his finger against her.  Her voice was getting breathier as she gasped, arms circling his neck, clinging to him.

She came in a long, slow wave.  She opened her eyes in the middle of it to watch him, one moan after another spilling past her lips.

She was too beautiful for words.  It never ceased to amaze him every time he saw her.  It used to frustrate him, back in the beginning, back before she’d thrown herself into his arms in the middle of Vortex.  She would stop into Security to check in with her APEX teams or to view security cameras and he would just… die a little inside.  Watching her had been torture for him.  Seeing her olive skin, her waves of hair, her dark eyes - it drove him wild.

But now, here she was.  Tiran was watching Sara from up close, her arms were around his neck, and she was tightening herself around his cock, her legs sliding up his thighs to encircle his waist.

He took his time sliding into her, relishing the soft pants and words that he didn’t understand spilling from her mouth.  Sometimes he replied to the imagined conversation they were having in his mind.  She would say something like, _I love feeling you inside of me,_ and he would reply, _I love everything about you._

And, of course, like an idiot, he took it too far in his mind.  He thought of her full lips tugging up at the corners as she whispered, _I have you beat.  I love everything about you... and I love you._

Tiran gasped past the climax rushing up around him.  He shuddered, his legs spasming as he came, still thrusting into her.  She clung to him, whispering.  He thought he might have been hearing his name, but the blood rushing through his head made it hard to understand anything.

He pressed his face into her hair, careful not to shove his cowl into her as he did.  Her slender, soft body curled around him, her arms tightening around his neck.

Once he came down from the orgasm, he rolled off of her and pulled her into him sharply, her face tucked against his neck and cowl, her sweet voice rasping gently as she kissed his throat.

They fell asleep like that, translators off, listening to one another for what felt like the first time.


	6. Every Other Freckle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Warning:** Rough smut.
> 
> This chapter's sexy title song is ["Every Other Freckle," by Alt-J.](https://open.spotify.com/track/01PdqaCvij7ryXod6nbtyQ) Please enjoy!

Tiran woke up after a few hours, for once annoyed at the lack of sleep his species needed.  He’d only been out for four hours, curled up with Sara in his arms, her soft snores lulling him into the closest thing to bliss he’d ever experienced.

By the time he awoke at 1100, he quietly moved through his apartment, finding leftover breakfast from the previous day in the fridge and picking at some morsels.  He looked back in the bedroom now and again, admiring how Sara’s small, naked form was coiled in the sheets, face pressed into the mattress, hair spilling around her in messy tangles.

He wanted to do something special for her.  They only had two more days together before she was off to Elaaden to bring yet another Vault online.  Two more days until he was back in the Security office, trying not to think about her.  Two more days until they had to face reality.

Before he could figure out what that reality might be, his terminal began flashing insistently.

Tiran knew it wasn’t going to be good when he tapped the terminal into wakefulness. No one had so much as sent him a ping while he’d been on his leave.  An extranet message was concerning.

Sure enough, it was a short, tersely worded message from Tann.

_Kandros.  I expect you and the Pathfinder in my office at 1500._

Tiran sighed and closed out of the message without responding. Part of him considered pretending he hadn’t seen it, but Nexus Command monitored their messages.  Tann would find out he opened it no matter what.

He thought about waking Sara to tell her the news, to see what they should say to Tann.  But when he arrived at the side of the bed, his heart thrummed with affection for the small woman, and he realized, quite unexpectedly, that he didn’t give a damn what Tann had to say.

He lowered himself onto the bed, grabbing a datapad on his side table.  It was a book, now six-hundred and fifty-nine years old.  It was something he’d always meant to read but never found the time.

It had stories about turians bound by duty.  Turians who fought and died during the Relay 314 Incident.  During the First Contact War.  It told of the humans’ rapid expanse through the galaxy and the turians who fought to stop it.

As he read, a bitter acid coiled in his stomach.  The terse words, the hatred for the soft, fleshy aliens, were like bullets ripping through his carapace.

He slammed the datapad back onto the nightstand and curled himself up against Sara.  She stirred slightly, letting out a soft sigh as she cuddled against him.  He held her, realizing what a faulty turian he really was.

But, perhaps, what a good man he was.

He kissed the top of her head and held her close, thankful his prejudices ran a little shallower than those of other turians.

 

* * *

 

When Sara finally awoke, it was 1300.  When she stumbled into the living room, she was cradling her head and groaning.

“Hungover?” he asked, trying to sound sympathetic but mostly seeming amused.

She looked up at him, seeming startled, and then chuckled.  She said something in her soft, lilting voice.  Something he didn’t understand.

“Ah,” he murmured uselessly.  “Translators.”

They both clicked through their omni-tools and then Sara winced in his direction.  “What did you say?”

“I asked if you were hungover.”

“Oh, yeah, very,” she moaned, closing her eyes as she sank onto the couch beside him.  “Please tell me we’re staying in all day?”

“I… that’s not happening,” he sighed, pulling her over and into his lap and bracing her to his chest, not sure how she was going to react to the next bit of information.  “Tann is calling us in.  We have two hours.”

She let out a soft laugh, which was not the reaction he expected, and leaned into him, lips grazing his neck.  “Well then.  He’s either going to yell at us for last night’s party, or….”

“Or our liaison,” he filled in.  He wanted to ask her what their relationship meant - was it something that was only lasting for now? Was this something long term?  But instead, he asked, “What do we tell him?”

Sara shrugged.  “If it’s about the party, I’ll just take responsibility and let him rant for a bit.  What’s he going to do, fire the human Pathfinder?  And if it’s about us…” she trailed off, a fingernail running across the edge of his cowl.  “I say we tell him the truth.  It’s not like we work side-by-side.  And even if we _did,_ we’re professionals.  Or, _you’re_ a professional, at least.”

He brushed his lip plates along her mouth, more relieved than he cared to admit.  She wasn’t going to deny their relationship.  She wasn’t embarrassed.  

In that moment, he found a word for the feelings he had, the feelings he now assumed she had.  Adoration.  Affection.  Genuine _feeling._ Maybe even love, he allowed himself to think before clearing his throat, somehow embarrassed at the honeyed thoughts.  Whatever it was, it was something he hadn’t expected to find in Andromeda; and certainly not with the human Pathfinder.

 

* * *

 

Tann stood in front of them on the other side of his desk, towering over their sitting frames.  Tiran was sure he’d done it on purpose - trying to feel more powerful.  Trying to feel like he wasn’t just a glorified pen-pusher.

“Unacceptable.”

That was all he had said in the three minutes Sara and Tiran had been sitting in front of him, quietly waiting for the berating to begin.

“You are supposed to be _professionals,”_ he snapped.  “You are expected to keep the Initiative’s well-being in mind.  But instead, you use your time off to throw unauthorized parties and… _fraternize.”_

Tiran could see Sara’s lips twitching upward in a barely contained smirk out of the corner of his eye.  Her smile made a chuckle attempt to bubble up from his chest.  He cleared his throat instead, trying to appear contemplative when all he wanted to do was kiss her full lips, Tann be damned.  

“Well?” Tann demanded.  “Surely you have something to say for yourselves?  Regale me with your excuses.”

Sara shrugged nonchalantly.  “I don’t know what to tell you, Tann. We’re both adults; we’re both consenting.  How is this anyone’s business? It’s not like we’re breaking any regs.  I checked.”

Tann sighed, running a hand over his long face.  “You must realize how this looks.  The human Pathfinder and the head of Nexus Security?”

Tiran felt his fringe tickling with annoyance.  “I can’t say that I do.  How do Sara and I being intimately acquainted change anything?”

“Yeah,” Sara murmured.  “I’m a little confused about that, too.”

Tann didn’t answer.  Tann didn’t _have_ an answer.  He didn’t approve of their union because he didn’t approve, not because there was something wrong with it. Tiran and Sara knew it, and Tann knew it.

“It’s not professional,” Tann repeated.

Sara yawned, making Tiran’s mandibles flare.  Tiran had to cough again to stifle a laugh. “Sorry, didn’t get much sleep last night,” Sara said innocently.

Tiran couldn’t help the laugh that time.  

They weren’t sure whether Tann thought she was referring to the party or her new turian lover, but either way, the salarian snapped, “Get out, the both of you.  This better not interfere with your jobs, or I will have more to say on this matter.”

Tiran and Sara left without a word, gracing past Tann’s assistant who looked awkwardly sympathetic for them.

Once they were out of the office, Tiran grabbed her arm gently, pulling her to a stop and wrapping her into his arms.  He didn’t care who saw, and Sara didn’t seem to, either.  She grinned, pressing herself into him, her neck craning to meet his gaze.  “What’s up, Ti?”

“I want to do something special tonight,” he murmured, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

Sara chuckled seductively, biting her lower lip.  “Oh yeah?”

“Not… that.  I mean something nice. For you to remember me by.”

Sara snorted.  “I’m not forgetting you, Tiran.  But okay, I’ll bite.  What do you have in mind?”

“I want to make dinner for you,” he said simply.

She raised an eyebrow at him, her expression telling him that she wasn’t sure if he was serious or not.  “Dinner?  Like… you are going to cook?  Dinner? For me?”

Tiran wasn’t sure why she sounded so surprised.  “Is there something else you’d rather me do for you?”  At her expression, he sighed.  “Anything besides sex.”

She looked contemplative for a moment before her expression softened.  “I think it’s a terrible idea for you to cook levo-food.  And for me to make anything dextro.  But,” she added quickly, noticing the defeat that sank his shoulders.  “But, I think we should make dinner together.  We can show one another how to make something.  Something we really like.”

Tiran leaned down to brush a kiss across her lips.  “I like this idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

They had raided the cafeteria for raw materials.  Tiran had almost expected the workers to give them a hard time, but they all seemed more than happy to bend the rules for Tiran and Sara.

Tiran carried the cooling crate of foods back to his apartment, Sara dancing behind him on her small, lithe feet.  She waved two bottles of brandy around like flags, humming to a tune no one else could hear.

She was lighter on her feet than usual - full of sweetness and excitement.  It seemed as if standing up to Tann had rejuvenated her.

When they reached his small kitchen, they opened the crate and glanced inside.  The levo- and dextro-foods were separated from one another by a plastic divider, which made things easier.

“So, what are we making tonight?” he asked, pulling her wrapped foods out of the cooler.

“Well, for me it will be lasagna and a side salad,” she grinned, fumbling with the packages.  “What are we making for you tonight?”

“Graken roast with a murken sauce,” he said as he grabbed his items.  He glanced up at Sara and found her watching him, her expression gentle.  

When he caught her staring at him, she blushed and chuckled, running a hand through her hair.  “Let’s… um.  Let’s get started. I’m starving.”

 

* * *

 

 

The dinner had been unusually quiet.  Sara couldn’t seem to stop smiling, but each time Tiran asked what she was thinking about, she would shake her head and take another sip of levo-brandy.

The silence was comfortable, but Tiran couldn’t help but wish Sara’s happiness wasn’t quite so quiet.  

She got up abruptly, grabbing her plate and coming over to collect his.  Her bare knee pressed against his thigh as she leaned over for his cutlery and Tiran reached out suddenly, grabbing her wrist.  

She raised an eyebrow at him, but her smile didn’t waiver.  “Something wrong?”

“Put the plate down,” he said softly, his subharmonics humming.

She put her plate down on top of his, and he used his free hand to push them back across the small table.  He grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up onto the table, making her giggle in surprise.  

He reached down to pull her shorts off of her, surprised and pleased to find there was nothing underneath them.  He spread her legs; she moaned, tilting her head back, her eyelids fluttering.

He slipped a finger inside of her.  She was already wet, almost as if she had been expecting this, hoping for this.  He stroked her for a few moments before a growl forced itself out of his throat. He wanted her on his tongue.  He wanted to feel her buck and press herself into his face.  He wanted to feel her hands on his fringe as he brought her to orgasm after orgasm.

He buried his face into her, long tongue stroking across her clit as he continued to thrust into her with his finger.  She mewled in pleasure, a hand caressing over the back of his neck, pressing in, making his cock shudder against his plates, seeking release.

This wasn’t for him, though.  Not entirely.  He wanted to bring Sara to her knees, to make her beg for him never to stop.  He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her.

Tiran's tongue sped up as Sara's panting became harsher.  Her chest was rising and falling, breasts straining against her tank top.  She pressed herself harder into his face, and he groaned into the wet folds, his finger slamming into her.

She began shuddering against him, her panting becoming full-blown cries of ecstasy as she came hard, her thighs clamping against his neck and mandibles.

He kept going, enjoying how her twitching felt against his face, how her fluids rushed into his mouth like a warm dessert.  

She sat up, caressing her hands across his fringe, and then suddenly seized up.  “Oh God, oh gross,” she whimpered, pushing his head away from her and climbing down from the table, grimacing.  “It’s not you, it’s - fuck, oh gross,” she groaned and ran into the bathroom.

It would have stung Tiran if he didn’t see the thick red sauce clinging to the bottom of her hair.  He glanced at her discarded plate, and everything made sense.

Even so, there was something hot bubbling in his throat.  He didn’t like the way she had left.  He didn’t like that he was pushed away from her.

He stalked into the bathroom.  Sara was already in the shower, the hot water caressing her naked body, hair hanging in thick tendrils down her back.  She had left the plastic divider screen open, giving him an uninterrupted view of her backside. He watched her, eyes never leaving the supple skin as he stripped.

She turned to him and smiled apologetically.  “Sorry.  I just have a weird thing with feeling food touching me.”

Tiran didn’t answer as he slid out of his pants and stepped into the shower, the tile slick with water.  He pressed into her, forcing her against the wall.  “You must not know that you shouldn’t walk away from a turian who is intent on pleasuring you.”

Her expression shifted from apologetic to amused.  “Oh yeah?  I’m still on a learning curve.”

“I guess I’ll let it slide this time,” he replied, voice a low rumble as he lowered his mouth to her ear.  “Usually I wouldn’t be so kind.”

“What would a turian do to someone who walked away?” she breathed, lips on his neck.  “You know… for learning purposes.”

“Nothing quite so nice as bringing you to orgasm after orgasm with their tongue,” he replied, nipping the sensitive skin below her ear.  “I’m not even sure you could handle such a thing… being such a frail human.”

Her sharp intake of breath and the smell of her arousal made a growl escape from his throat.  He wanted nothing more than to take her - to make her see what such a faux pas elicited.  But he held back.  He would be good.  He wouldn’t ravage her like a wild animal.

But then she said the magic words that made all of his pretenses, all of his willpower, shatter.  “Why don’t you try me, Kandros?” She bit his neck, making his eyes sharpen.  “Unless you’re scared.”

Tiran shoved her against the wall, mouth descending on a nipple, the other being squeezed roughly with his buffed talons.  Even so, he knew he would break the skin.  He knew she would bleed.  But everything was so crystal clear - every freckle on her skin, every gasp and groan that fell from her mouth as her nails slid over the plates of his arms and bit into the leather of his elbows.

“Is that it?” she asked when he pulled back to meet her lips with his in a bruising kiss.  She was panting, her eyes swimming in desire.  “I thought for sure you said I couldn’t handle it.”

Tiran snarled and spun her around, catching her in time before she slipped on the wet tile, and shoved her into the wall.  “You sure you want this?” he rumbled against her ear, her wet hair getting caught up in his trembling mandibles.He bit into her shoulder hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste of it filling his mouth.  His vision was tunneling out, driven by the smell of her, the way she pressed her ass back into his erection that slipped from his plates.

“You won’t like this,” he wheezed, giving her one last out.

“Try me, Kandros,” Sara repeated and then yelped when he grabbed her hips, talons biting into the flesh and drawing blood.  He yanked her into him, her back bowing, and shoved into her roughly.

She was tight from the previous orgasm and not as lubricated from the shower.  He faintly heard her yelp and hiss in pain, but he was too busy pounding into her, one hand still gripping her hip, the other pressing her face into the tile.

She was soon gasping and writhing against him in pleasure, her cries loud and her breathing erratic.  He watched the side of her face that he could see - it was drawn up in a mix of pleasure and pain and made him gasp past the urge to dig his talons into her deeper.

Sara wasn’t a turian, and he had to remind himself of that at every moment.  Sara couldn't withstand the abuse he wanted to inflict on her at that moment.

“Bite me,” she whimpered, voice coming out in ragged pants, raising with each thrust that pushed her against the wall.

Tiran leaned down and took the skin of her shoulder blade into his mouth, his teeth gnashing down on the thin skin.  It took everything in his willpower not to keep biting down.  Especially with how she was shrieking in pleasure, rocking her body back into his.

He hadn’t realized she had orgasmed until she went slack against the wall, struggling to catch her breath.  Tiran released his bite and licked at the blood spilling from it, groaning against her flesh.

“I need to come,” he said, harsher than he meant.

Sara chuckled breathlessly.  “Then make it hard and make it sting.”

Tiran grabbed her throat with one hand and braced himself against the wall with the other.  He thrust into her, harder than he knew he should have, his shuddering breaths hitting the back of her head like bursts from an air cannon.  

He came in a rush, wheezing as he slumped against her back, pulling his hand away from her throat and pressing his face into the hollow of her shoulder.  He gasped and trembled against her, the water on his back like ice.

When his brain finally quieted, the regret hit him like a rampaging yahg.  He turned off the water and picked Sara up, cradling her against his chest.  “Are you okay?” he asked, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Yeah,” she chuckled, though he could see she was hurting from the way her brow furrowed.

Tiran carried her to his bed and set her down gently.  Without a word, he went about getting medi-gel and gauze from the bathroom and returned to take care of her wounds.  He worked quietly, gently caressing his hands over her skin and brushing his mouth plates along her skin.  

Sara had begun relaxing into him, the tension in her bones smoothing out.  Once he finished caring for her shoulder blade, nipple and hips, he laid her back on the sheets.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, laying down beside her and wrapping her in his arms.  “I shouldn’t have… done that.”

She chuckled sleepily, pressing her face into her favorite groove of his neck.  “Tiran, shut up.”

He hadn’t expected that reaction, and it must have shown in how he stiffened because she elaborated, “It was fun.  And hot as hell.  I just don’t think my poor body can take that too often.  But I want to do it again.  Just… maybe not until I get back from Elaaden.”

_I want to do it again… I get back from Elaaden._

Tiran swallowed, his arms tightening around her.  She wanted more.  “I am sure that can be arranged, Ryder.”

She hummed her approval before sinking into a fitful sleep.


	7. Yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Smut! Of course! And fluff  <3
> 
>  **Chapter Notes:** This is the last chapter! 
> 
> This chapter's title song is ["Uh Huh," by Julia Michaels.](https://open.spotify.com/track/1eVRnmGhDPATPxz6kqWuCP) Please enjoy!

They had anticipated spending the entire day in Tiran’s apartment, eating more than advisable and drinking just as much.  Sex would need to be on their to-do list, Sara insisted, but Tiran knew she was still sore from the previous day and tried fending her attempts off with vids she wanted to see.

It had been going relatively well, but Tiran was becoming frustrated with how she kept slipping her hand down to his abdominal plates, stroking just enough to make him froth at the mouth but stopping before it got any further.  It wasn’t helping that she was only in her sheer underwear, looking seductive and playing coy.

“Are you getting annoyed?” she asked in the middle of the third vid, her hand slipping down to his waist and dipping lower.

Tiran grabbed her hand before she could tease him again and tugged her onto his lap.  Her thighs were on either side of his, her arms around his neck.  “I take that as a yes?” she chuckled, leaning in to meet his mouth plates with her lips.

“You know it’s a yes,” he sighed, returning the gesture and running a hand through her hair.  “You tease me too much.”

She snorted and pressed her mouth into his neck.  “You love it.”

He almost agreed but decided to keep his stupid mouth shut, so she didn’t let it go to her head.  He couldn’t imagine how insufferable her teasing would become if he stoked the flame.  Instead, he tugged her hair gently, bringing her mouth back to his.

She melted against him, groaning, her fingers kneading against the soft spot under his fringe. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, running along his teeth carefully, playfully bumping his.

One of his hands lowered to her bare waist, slowly moving upward to worm under her bra, caressing a firm nipple.  She hissed softly, pulling back long enough to murmur, “We move this to the bed.  Yes?”

He was about to say yes, but she stiffened and sighed.  “Hi, SAM.  Long time no interruption.”  She listened for a moment before her head sank onto Tiran’s cowl.  “Tell her I can’t make it.  Plans,  No, don’t tell her what my plans are, SAM, _jesus.”_

“What’s going on?” Tiran asked, nipping her bared throat.

“Cora’s been planning a ‘last night get together.’  Not a party, she says, but I also heard a lot of alcohol is involved and, let me tell you… if there’s a lot of alcohol, Peebee, Drack, Jaal, and Liam will make it a party.”

“When does it start?” he asked, trailing his mouth down her neck and to her shoulders, nipping as he went.

She moaned softly, leaning into his mouth. “Um… in, like, an hour.”

“You should go.”  His mouth had descended to her collarbone, careful to avoid the healing mark there.

“Trying to get rid of me on my last night, Kandros?”  Her voice was becoming breathy, and her hips began circling, her pelvis grinding against his.

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” he said simply as he pushed her bra down, tilting her back to descend on her nipples, switching between the two peaks.

“I’d rather stay here,” she purred.  “With you inside me.”

Tiran growled and pushed his pants down and shoved her underwear to the side.  He brushed a hand over his plates and her clitoris as he did.  His erection pushed itself out of him, finally free after so much torture, and she giggled, sliding onto him.  

“You should go,” he repeated, licking her jaw, watching her face while she rode him.  

“Oh yeah?” she panted, her hips swiveling as she rose and descended on him.  “Why’s that?  If you’re not just trying to get me out of here,” she teased.

“I want you to go and have fun with your friends,” he replied easily, nipping her chin before capturing her lower lip between his plates, pressing down.  “And I want you to think about me while you’re there.”

Sara laughed softly, pulling her lip free to lean her forehead against his.  “What should I think about while I’m there?  Any particular thing about you?”

“You could always think about this cock inside of you,” he breathed making her shudder at his tone.

“No flowery words?” she chuckled breathlessly.  “No, _think about my mouth, how I tell you I want you, how I touch you...?”_

Tiran nibbled her neck, growling softly.  “Well, there’s all of that, too.”

Sara wrapped her arms around his neck, her hips speeding up and her breathy pants becoming faster.  “Well, you’re in luck, Kandros.”

“Why is that, Ryder?”

She bit her lower lip, head tilting back, her passage tightening around his cock.  Tiran reached up to grab her breasts in his hands, squeezing them while she moaned loudly.  “Because,” she said between ragged breaths, “it would be impossible for me to not think about you, even while -- _ah, oh God,”_ she moaned, trembling against him, her climax washing over her.

Tiran tried not to be so pleased with her words, but they stirred something deep inside of him.  He thrust his hips up into hers, hissing past his release.  He tried to bit his tongue to keep himself focused, keep himself from losing control so soon.

But then Sara leaned into his mouth, whispering, “I won’t ever be able to get any inch of your off of my mind, Tiran Kandros.  You might just be stuck with me.”

He came violently, gripping her breasts tightly, snarling at the force of his orgasm.  She chuckled and pressed her mouth to his.  “You could come, too.”

“I just did.”

She snorted and tugged on his mandible.  “I mean to the dinner thing.  You can be my plus-one.”

He shook his head, still trying to catch his breath and calm his rushing thoughts.  “Go without me.  It will give you something to look forward to coming home to.”

He realized what he’d said too late and winced, knowing she was sharp enough to have sensed his lapse immediately.

“Oh,” she began, nipping his lower lip plate, “who says I’m coming back here afterward?  Maybe I’ll just go to my cabin….”

Her tone said the opposite, and so he nipped her lip.  “You’ll be back.  They always come back.”

She simpered.   _“They_ always come back, huh?  I didn’t realize I needed to fight other women off of you.”

“Would you?  Fight over me.”

She snorted, pulling back slightly.  “You haven’t been paying any attention, have you?”  And then she said, “SAM, let Cora know I’m coming to the dinner for a bit.  I might be late, though.  ...Thanks, SAM.”  She turned her smirk onto Tiran.  “I’d fight a horde of kett to get to you.”

“Just a horde?” he teased.

“Well, how many would you fight off of me?” she laughed.

“A horde.  A fleet.  As many as there are,” he replied honestly, relishing in the sweet expression on her face.

 

* * *

 

The dinner was a calm affair - that could have been, in part, because very few of the crew actually arrived.  Cora, Liam, Lexi, Vetra, and Peebee sat at the long, hodgepodge table in Cora’s apartment, talking over a soft mix of electronic music that easily faded into the background.

“Oh my God, Ryder, I have another lead on the rem-tech,” Peebee announced, cutting off Liam’s retelling of their soccer game on Prodromos.  “We need to head to Voeld whenever we have the time.”

“We can probably stop after we get Elaaden’s Vault online,” Sara agreed, cutting into her tofu-steak.  “But we really need to head over that way first.  Drack needs us to get the krogan colony in line, too.  We might be there for a while.”

“No worries,” Peebee shrugged.  “You’re the Pathfinder.  Just, you know… the sooner we get the stuff I need, the sooner you get cool new toys.”

“Speaking of new toys, how is it going with-” Vetra began, but Liam interrupted.

“Sara, there’s some sale going on at the weapon station.  You were saying you wanted to check out mods and I figured now would be a good time to take a look.  You know, so you don’t bankrupt the Initiative and cut into our pay even more.”

“Wait! You guys get paid?” Peebee asked, looking personally affronted.

“Uh... no comment?” Cora said sheepishly.  Peebee went silent, pouting.

“So, how’s it going with stony-face?” Vetra interrupted, undeterred from her first question.

Sara rolled her eyes.  “Vetra, do you have to be so mean about it?”

Peebee made a pleased noise.  “He’s dreamy.  I think you’re a lucky girl.  If he didn’t unabashedly hate my guts, I would have gone for it.”

Cora glanced up from the side-conversation she’d been immersed in with Lexi and Liam. “Wait, who?”

“Kandros,” Vetra sighed.

“Tiran,” Peebee groaned, fluttering her eyelids.

Sara just smirked, waiting for Cora’s admonishment.

Cora made an approving noise, though, surprising all surrounding her.  “I don’t know about the attractive comment, but he’s definitely a good soldier.  Seems like a decent sort.”

“You should see the marking,” Peebee grinned, poking at her dinner plate.

“The what?” Lexi asked quickly, eyes lighting up.  “You and Kandros?  You’ve allowed him to mark you?  Can I see it?  For scientific purposes,” she added quickly when Liam looked at her peculiarly.  “I’ve never seen the effects of turian marking on human skin before.”

“I really don’t think-” Sara began anxiously, but Vetra interrupted.

“I’m not trying to pry - in fact, I’d rather not think about Kandros being intimate with anyone, especially not you - but… you really let him mark you?  How long have you two been seeing one another?”

Sara felt her mouth getting dry.  She hadn’t realized the marking was a serious thing until the barrage of questions.  Now that she thought about it, it made sense - the marks were going to be a permanent part of her skin now. There wasn’t a way to easily get rid of them, outside of costly surgery.  

From any outsider looking in, it would appear as if she and Kandros were exclusive, had been for a while, and had every intention of staying that way.  They hadn’t actually talked about their plans with one another.  Sara had just assumed that they were something - she wasn’t sure what, exactly, but _something._

“Um… a week,” she said, shaking her head with the realization that she might have been making the biggest mistake of her short life.

“You mean… spirits, Ryder, do you mean the last four days?” Vetra ran a hand over her face.  “Shit.”

“It’s not like… it doesn’t….” She trailed off, realizing she had no excuse that would make the assembled people stop staring at her in a mix of surprise and horror.  “It’s fine,” she insisted, suddenly not sure if it was.

 

* * *

 

Sara had every intention of going home - she kicked herself for calling Tiran’s apartment _home_ \- and confronting Tiran, getting his take on what they were and why he’d been so blase with marking her.

But when she walked through the door, prepared for war, her heart melted.  Tiran was in the kitchen, attempting to recreate lasagna for her.

He glanced up, somehow looking embarrassed as his mandibles clacked against his face.  “I thought… I thought you’d be gone longer. I wanted to make this for… tomorrow.  So you wouldn’t have to worry about dinner.”

Tomorrow… when she was back on the Tempest and heading toward Elaaden.  Tomorrow, when Tiran was left alone in his apartment again.

She didn’t say anything and instead sauntered up to him, going on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, kissing his chin.  Tiran thrummed and lifted her up to sit on the island, the half-made lasagna forgotten.  He pressed his mouth against hers, hands sliding over her sides and down to the small of her back.

She hated how easily he made her forget her misgivings.  How quickly she went from questioning everything about their four-day union to knowing deep down that there was nothing wrong with what they were doing.  Their bodies seemed to call to one another - fitting together perfectly, yearning for one another every time they were apart.

“The lasagna,” he began softly.

“Forget it, it’ll be okay for an hour,” she whispered into his mouth, running her fingers through the thick arch of his fringe.

He picked her off of the counter and carried her into the bedroom, placing her gently on the bed and peeling off her leggings and underwear.  She slid out of her top and bra, leaning in to take his pants off while he removed his tunic.

Their lips met again as Tiran lowered himself on top of her gently, stroking the side of her face with his talons.  Sara breathed into his neck, rasping slightly, trembling with the overwhelming feelings that threatened to spill over her, to leave her in a teary mess.

“Tiran,” she whispered, gasping slightly when she felt his cock pressing against her thighs.

“Sara,” he replied, tongue sliding down to the hollow of her neck.

Sara opened her mouth to whisper _I love you_ but stopped herself.  She couldn’t be the first to say it.  She couldn’t be the first to break the spell, the perfect in-between they floated in.  So instead she wrapped her arms around Tiran's neck, pulling him down closer, relishing in the feel of his cowl poking into her soft skin, her sternum.  

If nothing else, she would remember the weight of him, the solidness of him pressing against the fiery feeling in her abdomen.

“Yes?” he breathed against her neck, pressing himself against her.

“Yes,” she whispered, groaning as he slid inside of her.

They moved together in tandem, breathing in each other’s breath, eyes never leaving one another.  Sara found it hard to breathe past the crushing love she felt for him, the crushing anxiety at the thought of losing him after tomorrow, the crushing need to know how he felt about her.

“I want tonight to last forever,” she gasped, unable to hold it back.

“Sara,” he breathed, lowering his face to her hair, nuzzling into it.  “Nothing would please me more.”

She let out a soft cry, back arching against him as her orgasm snuck up on her, spurred on by his sweetness.  She clung to him until he finished, his voice raspy and whispering her name into her hair.  

When he fell onto the mattress, she curled around him, draping herself around him like a blanket and kissing up and down his chest, her hands roving over his body, committing each curve and ridge to memory.  Committing the taste of his carapace, speckled with her sweat, to memory.

They fell asleep like that, both wishing there was a way to stop time.

 

* * *

 

The pair sat in silence on the couch, watching the holo clock in the corner, trying to reset the time.

Tiran knew he needed to stop being such a coward and ask Sara what was going to happen.  Where they stood.  He knew what he wanted, and he thought he knew what she wanted, but how could he ever be certain?  She had been so quiet all day.  Distant.

“Sara… should we… talk about this?” he asked finally.  They only had two hours left before she was needed back on the Tempest for pre-flight checks and navigation updates.

She was quiet for a moment before straddling his waist, her arms around his neck.  Her face was somber - that worried him.

“This has been fun, Tiran, I’ve… I’ve enjoyed every second.”  
  
Tiran prepared himself for the _But…. But_ she needed to keep focused.   _But_ she needed to do her job.   _But_ this was just a temporary thing, something she needed to de-stress and focus her mind.   _But_ he was little more than a dick for her to bounce on.

“But,” she hesitated, glancing toward the door.  She let out a deep sigh, and the rest came out in a rush.  “I don’t want to just fuck around and be done. I want… I want this to be real.  I want to miss you when I’m away.  I want to send you stupid messages every night.  I want to send you pictures of everywhere I go. I want to send you nudes and hope Tann sees them and dies from embarrassment.  Fuck, Tiran, I just… I want us to be an us.  For real.”

Tiran’s mouth went dry.  It took him a few moment to process, to realize she was going an entirely different direction than he had expected.

She took his stunned silence to mean something entirely different.  She bit the inside of her cheek, warily watching him.  “Sorry… I knew this was a bad idea.  I just….”

Tiran wrapped her into his arms, pulling her sharply against him.  She let out a little yelp of surprise when he buried his face into her shoulder, feeling his heart choking him.  “I want that, too,” he murmured into her skin.  “More than anything.”

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice thick.  Tiran could feel her smiling against his neck.

“Yes,” he murmured, pulling back to kiss her, a bruising, lasting kiss.

She giggled against his mouth and murmured, “Always knew I’d have a turian boyfriend.  Never thought I’d have to go to another galaxy to find him, though.”

“I guess I’m lucky I showed up, then,” he murmured, kissing her jaw.  “Otherwise you might have had to settle for Avitus Rix.”

"Oh God,” she giggled, pulling back to trace her finger on the notch of his clan marking, running across his lip plates.  “He’s a little too solemn for my tastes.”

“And you didn’t think I was?” he asked, incredulous.  He’d always thought his ‘duty-bound turian’ facade was pretty good.

“Nah,” she grinned, hands moving to cup his mandibles.  “I could tell there was a soft spot under all of this gruff exterior.  Probably because you laughed at my corny jokes.  And told me to come talk anytime I needed to rant.”

"You read me too easily, Ryder."  He kissed her again, sure that he would never stop delighting in the feeling of her softness.  “I say we move this to the bed.  Yes?”

“Already there, Kandros,” she chuckled, sliding off of his lap and tugging him past the room dividers, her five fingers intertwined with his three.


End file.
